


i missed you, but i haven't met you (oh but i want to)

by svftminho



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Familiars, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Some angst, implied Seongjoong, implied mingi/jongho, yunho and san are just vibing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svftminho/pseuds/svftminho
Summary: He doesn’t realize until years later, when he is standing in the ashes of the both of their lives, that maybe he has always been waiting for Wooyoung.or: Yeosang and Wooyoung contemplate their past and present.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41
Collections: All Hallows ATEEZ Exchange





	i missed you, but i haven't met you (oh but i want to)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jjins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjins/gifts).



There was little else that Yeosang hated more than Halloween. Beyond the fact that the shop was always its busiest in October (oh the joys of working at the only magical café in Seoul), the type of people the shop drew grated on Yeosang’s nerves. Large groups of humans, who gathered in droves from dawn to dusk convinced that something “spooky” about the shop appeared on October 1st on the dot (the spookiest thing most likely being Jongho during his midterms). Wooyoung would say he was being petty, but Wooyoung was Wooyoung and soaked up the extra attention like he would the plants in a large greenhouse, so he didn’t have any say as far as Yeosang was concerned. All of this was to say that Hongjoong had woken up and decided to ruin his life.

“A Halloween party?” 

Yunho sounded about as confused as Yeosang felt, leaned against the register with a concerned frown. San, who’d been hanging further behind Yunho, drifted closer. “We’re having a party in the cafe?”

Hongjoong grinned, digging through the box he’d dropped unceremoniously on one of the tables when he’d called the meeting. “Sounds fun right?”

“Well...” Yunho started uncertainly, staring at the bright orange garland and glittery spiders Hongjoong was pulling from the box. The older witch looked at him expectantly, hopefully. Everyone knew that if Yunho agreed to the party, San would agree, which meant Mingi would automatically join and drag Jongho along with him, and Wooyoung would want to go because everyone else was going, which meant that Yeosang would inevitably, unwillingly, be dragged to the party as well.

Yeosang watched Wooyoung draw closer to the box, prodding at the spiders curiously, and immediately knew he couldn’t let that happen. “It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen,” he said, hoisting himself onto the nearest table. Seonghwa stared at him pointedly before he swung his legs off.

Hongjoong scoffed, moving so Wooyoung could rifle through the box as well. “You think anything involving humans is going to be a disaster.”

“And? The humans already treat the shop like a tourist attraction on Halloween, why give them an actual reason to?”

“Ohhh that’s a good point,” Yeosang heard San murmur to Yunho, chin hooked over the taller witch’s shoulder. 

Wooyoung suddenly made a triumphant noise, pulling something small and dark from the box. Yeosang was just able to make out the beginnings of something v-shaped on the top of it before Wooyoung quickly strode over to him, reaching up and pushing what he realized was a headband onto his head. 

“There,” his witch pronounced, eyes twinkling. “Cute.”

Yeosang prodded at the shapes on the top of the headband, feeling soft fur beneath his fingers. Of course. He gave Wooyoung an unimpressed look, _Really?_

Wooyoung giggled, adjusting the cat ears where Yeosang had pushed them crookedly to the side, brushing fingers through his hair absentmindedly. _They are cute. Just like the old days._

Yeosang rolled his eyes, ignoring the warmth in his chest. He knew Wooyoung was just trying to get him to agree to the party. That the touch and gentle affection was just Wooyoung’s way of trying to win him over. The ivy, densely intertwined into the ceiling of the shop, heaved a great sigh. 

His chest tightened, neither pleasant or unpleasant, as Wooyoung tugged on their Bond. He looked back, partly exasperated. _What?_ Wooyoung was looking back at him expectantly, eyes bright. His soul gleamed beneath the firefly glow of magic. _Oh for the love of—_

“Fine,” he said out loud, pushing the witch away. “Just _stop_ doing that.”

Wooyoung cheered, immediately rushing back to the box to start digging through it again. Yeosang wrapped his arms around his legs, ignoring the amused looks Seonghwa and Hongjoong sent him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yunho poke at San. “Hey, why don’t you ever agree with me like that?”

“Well, I have a spine, for one—”

The bell above the door chimed, a cold gust of wind entering the shop as Jongho and Mingi walked in. Well, Jongho walked in, Mingi was draped over his witch’s shoulders, face tucked into the back of Jongho’s neck. “Cold,” he moaned, as Jongho all but dragged him inside. 

Jongho made a face, prying at the arms wrapped around his chest. “ _Maybe_ if you’d walked here like a normal person instead of attaching yourself to me like a leech—” Mingi grumbled, releasing the witch and immediately making a beeline for the corner booth closest to the kitchen. Jongho sighed, turning to them and faltering, eyeing the box that Wooyoung was still digging through, the orange garland and glittery spiders around it, and landing finally on the cat ears perched on Yeosang’s head. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re having a Halloween party,” Wooyoung cheered, pulling a pair of devil’s horns from the box and setting them on his head. Jongho blinked, looking from Hongjoong who grinned, to Yunho who shrugged. 

“The shop’s okay with that?”

At once everyone turned from Jongho to Seonghwa, who shrugged. “It doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Are we going to find out it minds before or after it instigates another power outage?” Yeosang drawled.

Seonghwa ignored him. “It might be a little uncomfortable, but a party could be a good way to bring in more customers. Besides,” he frowned, twisting the gold band on his finger. “We could use the extra revenue anyway.”

Yeosang grimaced, the magick in the shop turning heavy and bitter. Everyone knew Hongjoong and Seonghwa had been having a hard time making ends meet lately. There wasn’t anything in particular to blame, they still had the same regulars, the food and drink was up to par, there just...weren’t many customers. It wasn’t something they tried to hide, but Yeosang knew from the snippets of conversations he’d heard when they thought they were alone that things were harder than they let on. 

“We’ll make it work, hyung.” Wooyoung said, voice low. His soul burned as steady as a hearth.

Seonghwa smiled, poking at the horns on Wooyoung’s head. “I know we will.”

The magick lightened, bitterness fading. Yeosang saw Hongjoong quickly turn away from Seonghwa as if burned (and if that wasn’t something Yeosang was curious about). He faced the rest of them, as if nothing had happened. “Alright let’s get the shop ready for opening then okay? Halloween’s tomorrow, so Wooyoung and Yeosang, you’ll work on decorating the shop. San and Seonghwa, you’ve got the front. Jongho and Yunho, you can both go ahead with prep and Mingi—where’s Mingi?” 

Snoring sounded from a corner booth in the shop, where Yeosang could see a tuft of Mingi’s bright red hair sticking out. Hongjoong sighed, dragging a hand down his face as Seonghwa laughed. “Whatever he can sleep, let’s just get this done okay?”

Everyone separated, Yunho, San, and Jongho heading towards the back while Seonghwa and Hongjoong lingered around the decorations Wooyoung was excitedly pulling out. Yeosang sighed, hopping gently off the table and over to the three witches. Wooyoung had found a string of purple fairy lights and was explaining how he wanted to drape them through the ivy on the ceiling. 

Seonghwa looked unsure. “Are you sure that’ll be safe?”

“Yeah totally.” Wooyoung said without looking up from the knot he was trying to untangle, tongue poking out in concentration.

Both Seonghwa and Hongjoong turned towards Yeosang, and he shrugged. “I’ll keep him from breaking his neck. Probably.”

“Very reassuring.”

Yeosang shrugged again and turned towards Wooyoung, who had already started dragging a ladder over. “If you fall I’ll laugh at you.” 

Wooyoung grunted, shifting the ladder closer to a window. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Despite what he’d said, Yeosang watched Wooyoung carefully as he clambered up the ladder and spoke to the ivy softly. Technically, Wooyoung could’ve just threaded the lights through the ivy without asking—few plants said no to Wooyoung anyway—but Yeosang knew he treasured his relationship with the shop’s plants more than anything. 

After a moment, Wooyoung smiled and began carefully threading the lights through the vines. Yeosang watched how he was careful to never place more weight than the plants could take on one spot. Near the register, Hongjoong was speaking quietly to Seonghwa, who hummed in response occasionally as he placed ghost stickers on the register. Yeosang snorted quietly. Some hyungs.

The door to the kitchen suddenly opened. “Wooyoung,” Yunho panted, leaning heavily against the doorway. “The honeysuckle’s blocking the back door.”

“Again?” Wooyoung dropped the strand of fairy lights and clambered down from the ladder, Yeosang gripping the back of his shirt instinctively when he swayed precariously on the last step. He brushed a hand over Yeosang’s— _thank you_ —and continued towards Yunho. “That’s the second time this week.”

“Shouldn’t you consider just cutting them back if they’re causing so much trouble?” Hongjoong recoiled at the fierce look Wooyoung immediately sent him. “Or not? What do I know, it’s not like it’s my shop.”

“Everyone knows the shop is really Seonghwa hyung’s though,” Yeosang pointed out.

Seonghwa hummed and pressed another ghost sticker onto the cash register. “The shop does like the smell of honeysuckle.”

Hongjoong groaned and dragged a hand down his face, as if the shop had committed a personal grievance against him. And maybe it had, Yeosang had never seen a witch’s Burrow so mulishly contradict its own owner as the Shop consistently did with Hongjoong. Just this morning alone Yeosang had watched Hongjoong’s coffee appear and disappear throughout various parts of the shop.

Hongjoong opened his mouth, as if to protest the point further, before Yunho quickly spoke. “That’s decided then! Honeysuckle stays. Wooyoung, let’s go.”

Yeosang watched bemusedly as Wooyoung was all but dragged out of the shop. A few years ago, Yeosang would’ve bristled at the tight grip around Wooyoung’s wrist, teeth flashing in warning. Now, Yeosang has to swallow instinctive laughter when his witch nearly trips over his own feet trying to keep up with Yunho’s much longer strides. Wooyoung was safe.

“What are you smiling about?”

Yeosang looked back towards Seonghwa. Hongjoong was gone, likely to see if Jongho and Yunho needed help in the back, and Mingi was still sleeping fitfully in one of the corner booths. Yeosang shrugged, lips twitching. “Wooyoung almost ate asphalt.”

Seonghwa burst into surprised laughter, and Yeosang felt the magic effervesce in the air. “You’re an awful creature,” he said in between giggles, picking the forgotten sticker sheet back up.

Yeosang smiled, small, once Seonghwa had turned back to the register. He might have believed that a few years ago. Back when the weight of Wooyoung’s soul was still new and the absence of the Forest’s presence was still raw. When Yeosang’s decision forced Wooyoung to leave his home. Yeosang would have believed he was something awful then, but, as he was often forced to remind himself, this was now. Now, there are witches and Familiars who only know him—love him—as the prickly, Forest-less creature he was now, who loved Wooyoung almost as fiercely as he did. Now, Yeosang can feel Wooyoung’s happiness through their Bond, the quiet tug of magic pulsing between them. 

Yeosang settled more fully against the windowsill, listening to Seonghwa’s humming mix with the sound of Mingi’s quiet snoring and the thrum of magic swirling happily throughout the shop. His and Wooyoung’s Bond pulsed like a second heartbeat.

_This is home._

***

Yeosang remembers the time in the Forest. He’d tried not to think about it after he and Wooyoung were forced to leave, it wasn’t his—either of theirs—anymore, what good would brooding on it do? But it was difficult, sitting on the plastic seats of the very first bus they took out of town and trying not to think about digging his claws into fresh soil, into the gnarled branches of the oldest evergreens. Trying not to think about having claws _at all_ —or his tail or his soft, pointed ears. Trying not to think about the tether between them, why he’d agreed to such a connection with a human, even if the human was Wooyoung. 

Maybe that was the point. That from the beginning it had been Wooyoung, the trees sighing when Wooyoung, small and dirt-covered and soul glowing bright, entered an empty clearing. 

Yeosang had stiffened from his place in the leaves, tail twitching. He wasn’t a dryad or wind spirit, so he couldn’t truly speak to the trees, but as the battered child—and as he stepped more clearly into the moonlight, Yeosang could see he could not be anything but—neared Yeosang’s perch in the trees, he could feel the leaves around him quiver in excitement. It made Yeosang dig his claws deeper into the branch and peer closer, the wood groaning in complaint. 

The boy, nearly below him, flinched and whirled around to face the dark trees he had appeared from. “Who’s there?” 

Yeosang nearly rolled his eyes. Wasn’t the child perceptive enough to know if he was being followed? You had to, at the very least, be able to tell if ( _when_ ) something was hunting you in Yeosang’s forest, but the boy only continued to stare into the trees, soul glowing softly beneath his t-shirt. That was another thing: souls didn’t usually glow, Yeosang knew from experience. They were too muddled beneath all the flesh and blood and _clay_ of mortals for anything more than a dim glimmer to show through, and the firefly glow of magick that he’d seen in mages and the occasional sorcerer had always masked anything even vaguely resembling a soul.

And _yet._

There was a mortal boy standing mere feet below Yeosang, soul a bobbing lantern, and the Forest was practically shivering in anticipation, the leaves closest to him straining to reach closer. 

Yeosang watched the boy’s eyes search the leaves around him before they fell, widening, on Yeosang. The boy blanched, his soul flickering like a flash of lightning. Yeosang couldn’t help but revel in the fear, for just a moment. It had been years since anything besides the trees had looked at him. The boy swallowed, clenched his fists at his side, and asked, “Are you the Forest Guardian?”

Yeosang blinked, surprised, before quickly recovering. “What do you think?”

“I think you seem kind of small to be the Guardian of the whole Forest.”

Yeosang nearly hissed, taken aback. “I am _not_ small. _You’re_ small.”

“Yeah, but I’m only fifteen so I’ve still got time to grow. My dad told me.” The boy grinned triumphantly. “I bet you’re done growing.”

Yeosang had probably finished growing sometime during the last half century, but the glowing brat didn’t need to know that. “I’ll have you know that I am still growing. In fact, one day I’m going to be as tall as…” he cast about for some sort of inspiration, “the evergreen overlooking the lake.”

The boy gaped, stepping closer to Yeosang’s perch. “You mean the tree that touches the sky?”

Yeosang nodded.

“Wow,” the boy’s eyes traced his form. “You must be a _baby_ then.”

Yeosang spluttered. “I am _ancient_ —”

The boy waved away his protestations, suddenly urgent. “I need a favor from you.”

The words brought Yeosang’s thoughts to a halt. A favor. Of course. Why else would a human seek out his presence? No one ever really looked for Yeosang anyway, they looked for his magick, his power. They sought his connection to the trees and the earth, the countless dryads and nymphs that hid in the depths of the Forest. It was the one thing humans and magick users alike all shared: greed.

“What,” the words came out like ice, “do _you_ want?”

The soul flickered in time with the boy’s faltering expression. “I um, I want—”

“No.”

Color rushed to the kid’s face, soul flaring. “But you didn’t even let me finish!”

Irritation flashed, spread to Yeosang’s claws as he dug them deeper into the branch to keep from swiping. He wanted nothing more than to tell the kid to get lost. He didn’t want to hear about his quest for power, his tragic backstory, or how long he’d searched for the Forest Guardian. He wanted him _gone._

The boy was saying something, about how it was _important_ , if he would just listen then he’d _understand_ —

A growl rumbled in Yeosang’s chest, and the kid froze, soul dimming and shrinking in on itself. Yeosang hated how the sight snuffed his anger as quickly as it had been ignited. He breathed carefully through his nose, ignoring the disapproval emanating from the trees. “Listen to me. I can’t help you. Whatever problem you’re having—it’s going to have to be solved without magic.” He nodded in the direction that the boy came. “Now go home.”

The boy glared at him, gaze steely, for a long moment. His fists clenched, unclenched. Then, when Yeosang thought he’d finally turn around and leave, he sucked in a gust of air and said, clearly, “Wooyoung.”

Magic rippled in the air, a stone thrown into a lake. Apprehension roiled through the trees, bubbled up from the grass below. Yeosang swallowed around the dread building in his throat. “What?”

He’d give the kid a chance, to take it back, to laugh it off as some kind of joke humans found funny. Yeosang didn’t like humans, but that doesn’t mean he’d take what he was dreading the boy below was offering.

Dark, determined eyes met his. “That’s my name. Wooyoung.”

Around him, Yeosang could feel the trees become silent. “You shouldn’t give away your name freely.”

“I’m not,” the boy, Wooyoung, rocked back on his heels. “It’s a trade.”

Yeosang narrowed his eyes. “A trade for _what?”_

“My favor.”

Yeosang glared, disbelief and uncertainty clashing somewhere in his chest. There was no way anyone, nevermind a human, would give up their name to someone like him in exchange for a favor. Yeosang could find out anything he wanted, could make Wooyoung do anything he wanted if he were to give up his name. It made something like nausea roll in the pit of his stomach. 

“You’re lying.”

“Nope,” Wooyoung smiled, playfully, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

Suddenly, there were things that stuck out about Wooyoung’s appearance. From the thinness of his arms to the shadows beneath his eyes, the calluses Yeosang could make out on the tips of his fingers. Yeosang didn’t do favors anymore, especially for humans, who took more than they cared to give. _But—_

Wooyoung’s soul flickered, dimmed, candle-like. His eyes were the color of damp earth.

Yeosang sighed, tail flicking irritably. The trees tittered at him, wind breaking through the canopy of leaves and mussing his hair. He growled, swiping at the presence half-heartedly (it wasn’t as if the wind was ever going to let Yeosang catch it). Spirits above, _fine_. Yeosang could make an exception, just this once, and then he’d never see the kid again. 

“What do you need?”

***

Wooyoung liked to think he knew his coworkers pretty well. Working all kinds of odd hours at the coffee shop does that to a person (and maybe Wooyoung was a bit nosy and eavesdropped on more conversations than he cared to admit, but it was mostly in the breakroom okay? Totally fair game). It’s how he knows that Jongho is avoiding Mingi, or at least as much as a witch could avoid their Familiar (which mostly just involved Jongho being mysteriously “busy” when Mingi had something to do that didn’t need his witch’s magic). It wouldn’t have been so noticeable if it were anyone else (hell, even Wooyoung and Yeosang needed time apart sometimes), but Mingi and Jongho had always been bound a little tighter together than the rest of them. Honestly, the fact that Wooyoung hadn’t seen Mingi hanging off of Jongho like some kind of oversized, squirmy coat once in the past week was enough to get his attention. That and the wounded puppy eyes that Mingi seemed to throw in Jongho’s direction whenever the witch rejected yet another errand run with him, and Jongho’s strangely temperamental magick the past week was more than enough to justify Wooyoung’s meddling. 

“Leave it alone.”

Wooyoung looked at Yeosang, who hadn’t bothered to look up from the pumpkin cookies he was icing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you’re not thinking about meddling with whatever is going on with Jongho and Mingi?”

 _“Yeosang,”_ Wooyoung gasped, hand clasped over his chest. “I would _never_ interfere with the private lives of our friends.”

Yeosang snorted. “Cut the bullshit.”

“Oh my god I can’t believe you think I’m _lying_.”

Yeosang reached over and smacked his arm, fighting laughter. “I _know_ you’re lying, dipshit.”

Wooyoung ignored him. “My own best friend, my _soulmate_ , accusing _me_ of lying. What next? I suppose you’ve never even loved me—“

Yeosang smacked a hand over his mouth and Wooyoung tasted frosting. _Bastard,_ Wooyoung thought, seeing laughter dancing in Yeosang’s eyes. “Shut up.”

Wooyoung raised his hands in surrender, and after a moment Yeosang moved his hand away, shaking his head and wiping the frosting on his hand onto his apron. Wooyoung stared at the sharp line of Yeosang’s profile as he went back to decorating, his forehead sloping down to meet the bridge of his nose, the plush line of his lips, the smoothness of his cheek. _These are totally platonic thoughts to have,_ Wooyoung rationalized to himself, before steeling himself for what he was about to do next.

Quickly, without thinking about it too hard, Wooyoung grabbed Yeosang’s shoulder, hauled himself closer, and planted a loud kiss onto his cheek. Yeosang’s skin was smooth, and cool to the touch. Wooyoung remembered when he’d first met him and how he’d marveled at how cold Yeosang was. Except—

Wooyoung draws away and Yeosang’s face is tinged pink, a pale flush rising from his neck, soothing over his cheeks, and rising to the tips of his ears. Wooyoung is suddenly thinking of sunrises bleeding over clouds into a pale sky.

“What,” Yeosang is still, hands frozen around a piping bag. “What was that for?”

Wooyoung wasn’t really sure anymore. “Um,” he licks his lips, tasting frosting. “Payback?”

The air feels strange between them, as if they’d said something neither of them had meant to. They’re both still frozen when Mingi suddenly enters.

“Hey guys—um,” he looked between the two of them, the frosting on Wooyoung’s mouth and Yeosang’s cheek, awkwardly. “Um, Jongho said you probably needed my help back here?”

Strange feelings forgotten, Wooyoung glanced quickly at Yeosang, _did you—?_ A subtle shake of the head, brows furrowed. _No._

Mingi must get the gist of what they’ve said because he immediately deflates. “Oh okay. That’s, um,” his voice wavers, dangerously, and Wooyoung speaks without thinking.

“Right! Help. Yeah, um, I was just about to leave anyway and Yeosang does need help, actually. Right Sangie?”

Yeosang looks at him for a moment, expression unreadable, before turning to Mingi. “Yes. I need help...icing the cookies.”

Wooyoung just barely stops himself from wincing. Mingi is horrible at icing cookies and Seonghwa is going to kill them when he sees the finished product. 

Mingi immediately brightens though, and takes Wooyoung’s seat next to Yeosang, already chatting his ear off about the demon he’d served earlier and how San had almost spilled his coffee—

Wooyoung slipped out, quickly, ignoring the eyes on his back.

***

Yeosang doesn’t stop seeing the boy from the Forest, despite his best efforts. Yeosang grants his favor, pockets his name, and continues on with his life, expecting to never see the boy, _Wooyoung_ , again. 

Except he does.

Wooyoung has an uncanny talent for locating him, despite Yeosang never visiting the same area twice. He appears from the trees, each night like clockwork, when the crickets begin to sing and the Forest rustles with life. His soul glows beneath his shirt like a fallen star. 

He greets Yeosang with eager eyes and a soft, dulcet voice. Yeosang leaves him the moment his greeting falls from his lips the first three times. After that, he becomes curious. _Who are you?_ Yeosang wonders. He could use Wooyoung’s name to find out, technically, but the thought makes something in the deepest parts of himself shudder. 

So each night, he finds himself waiting for Wooyoung and the tell-tale lantern glow of his soul that would flicker between the trees. He doesn’t realize until years later, when he is standing in the ashes of the both of their lives, that maybe he has always been waiting for Wooyoung.

***

The night of the Halloween party has Wooyoung pacing around the back of the shop nervously. He can hear the guests entering the door, San loudly calling, “Welcome to Deja Brew, buy something!”

The day in the back of the coffee shop, when he’d kissed Yeosang, had been stuck in his head since yesterday. He’d avoided Yeosang for the rest of the day, and they’d returned home, silent. Wooyoung was used to the quiet with Yeosang, but this had been different. The silence had been heavy, and Yeosang wouldn’t meet his eyes. Even this morning and into the afternoon, they’d both been uncharacteristically quiet towards each other. Seonghwa had shot him worried looks throughout the day, and Hongjoong had even asked him if something was wrong.

 _No, nothing’s wrong,_ he’d answered, the words bitter on his tongue. 

Now, with humans and magick folk alike entering the cafe, music starting and laughter echoing, Wooyoung feels terribly alone. He and Yeosang had fought before, but at least then Wooyoung knew what was wrong, how to fix it. He doesn’t know how to fix the quietness behind Yeosang’s eyes.

Wooyoung groaned, dragging his hands down his face. When did things become complicated? When had things ever been complicated with Yeosang? 

In the shop, someone is playing Monster Mash and Wooyoung has to bite back the urge to scream. “Who the hell picked this playlist?”

“I think it was Mingi,” Yeosang says, and Wooyoung nearly jumps out of his skin, turning to see him leaned against the doorway. “But Yunho probably helped,” he continued as if Wooyoung hadn’t nearly had a heart attack just from him appearing. 

There’s silence for a long moment, before Wooyoung realizes he’s meant to reply. “Oh! Right. Yeah. Makes sense, they both have a, uh, weird taste in music.” _Spirits above, what is he saying._

Yeosang inclines his head in agreement, eyes dark. Wooyoung’s never not been able to know what’s going on in Yeosang’s head, but now even the Bond isn’t telling him anything. 

“Um,” Wooyoung starts, uncertainly. “Yeosang, are you mad at me?”

Yeosang blinks, and the smooth façade ripples, confusion crossing his face. “No, I,” he scratches at the side of his neck, glances at his shoes. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

_“What?”_

It’s said aloud and somewhere in their Bond, confusion bouncing between them. Wooyoung had been prepared for Yeosang to finally yell at him, to finally tell him he was sick of his clinginess and affection. That he didn’t want what Wooyoung wanted. It didn’t matter if Wooyoung had never felt discomfort from Yeosang when they were together, the Bond didn’t tell them everything, and with how Yeosang had reacted after the kiss yesterday, Wooyoung had thought he’d finally realized what had never been said through it: Yeosang didn’t want him, not in the way Wooyoung did, at least.

Except, Yeosang isn’t mad, he doesn’t know what Wooyoung’s talking about, if the confusion crossing over from the Bond meant anything.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Wooyoung asked, slowly.

Yeosang scratched at the back of his neck, eyeing him uncertainly. It hurts, Wooyoung realizes, to see Yeosang so hesitant with him. “I didn’t really...respond yesterday. I could tell you wanted me to, I just didn’t know how.”

 _Oh,_ Wooyoung thinks. 

“Respond like…” Wooyoung’s heart is beating hard enough in his chest he’s sure the guests must hear it from outside. “Like kiss me?”

Yeosang nods, pink blooming across his face and Wooyoung thinks of orange frosting, color blossoming into sunrise. “Did you,” and Wooyoung has to swallow, steel himself for rejection because _there’s no way that—_

“Yes,” Yeosang answers. His eyes are boring into Wooyoung’s, and their Bond is practically humming between them. “Yes, I wanted to kiss you.”

The music and laughter from outside fades away. Even the plants, always at the edge of his consciousness, have gone silent. Wooyoung feels as if he’s being anchored only by his heart hammering against his ribcage, like only Yeosang’s eyes, unflinching, are keeping him from floating away. 

Someone moves, maybe it’s both of them. Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s the Bond, folding space in half to bring them closer. Wooyoung doesn’t know. All he knows is his arms, around Yeosang’s waist, Yeosang’s hands burning against his face. Their foreheads pressed together. Wooyoung is close enough to see the specks of green dotting Yeosang’s eyes, like blades of grass. Yeosang’s thumb traces a path across Wooyoung’s cheek, tender. _I love you._

The words burn between them, and Wooyoung doesn’t think of anything besides them before he surges forward. Yeosang’s lips are cool and move softly against Wooyoung’s, and Wooyoung all but melts against him. He’s reminded of the petals that fell from the trees in the Forest, the soft, velvety texture of them and how they’d always been caught in Yeosang’s hair.

Yeosang presses more firmly against him, fingers threading in the hair at the nape of Wooyoung’s neck. Wooyoung sighs, pressing closer, running his hands down Yeosang’s sides and feeling him shiver beneath them. 

_My sunrise,_ he thinks, as they separate. 

Yeosang presses a chaste kiss against his lips, then again on his cheek. His nose. Under his eye. _My star._

Love sings beneath Wooyoung’s skin, wraps itself around his soul. He traces the mark under Yeosang’s eye reverently, feels Yeosang’s heart beat in time with his. Outside, the world moves on, music thumping and magick whirling, but here—

Yeosang leans further into his hand, placing a soft kiss on his palm. Wooyoung feels his throat close, emotion surging through him.

Here, he thinks, pressing his lips to Yeosang’s again, they have an eternity.


End file.
